


My promise is that I will hurt you.

by Neutralchaos



Series: Oh Brock, when will you learn? [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Bondage, Cock Cages, Crossdressing, Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sounding, Spreader Bars, Vibrators, i'm (not) sorry, ruined orgasm, seriously turn back now, sinners only beyond this point, this is awful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 05:16:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6739585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neutralchaos/pseuds/Neutralchaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have nothing to say for this. No excuses whatsoever. I am Trash. That's it.<br/>If the tags didn't scare you off, Welcome!* Opens arms and smiles* </p><p>Not beta'd, so if there are any glaring errors let me know.</p><p>Note: Last part majorly edited as of May 4.</p>
    </blockquote>





	My promise is that I will hurt you.

**Author's Note:**

> I have nothing to say for this. No excuses whatsoever. I am Trash. That's it.  
> If the tags didn't scare you off, Welcome!* Opens arms and smiles* 
> 
> Not beta'd, so if there are any glaring errors let me know.
> 
> Note: Last part majorly edited as of May 4.

 

“This is fucking stupid.” Came the grumble from the bathroom, and Jack could a shuffling noise before the delicate click of heels hitting the ground was heard.Before Brock can come out though Jack says, “ did you put the underwear on too?” the sound of Brock turning back around and the string of colorful cursing being muttered gives Jack his answer. Settling further down on the couch Jack simply goes back to his book, he’s no rush. They have all day after all, despite what Brock might think. Jack grins because he knows that Brock thinks that this will be over with quickly. He knows that Brock thinks Jack just wants a couple pictures and then they’ll be done and Brock can change back into his terrible cargo pants-boot combo, before they head out. That’s fine though. He’ll find out soon enough, Jack really isn’t worried. Brock did agree to this after all, he just wasn’t made aware the duration, or that they would be doing this somewhere besides at home.

 

Jack manages to read another chapter before he can hear Brock swearing again, this time not even bothering to tone his voice down.

“Fucking piece of hellfire forged shit! How the fu-” Jack could hear something clatter onto the tile, and he got up investigate.

“Need a hand there darling?” he called as he walked closer.

“NO! Fuck no! It’s good! Everything is fucki- Oh come on! It cannot be this hard to get on!” came the reply. Pushing open the door Jack couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

Standing in the middle of the bathroom, Brock had both his arms in a chicken wing like position aiming towards his back, as he desperately tried to hook the red bra on, wearing nothing but a pair of pink cotton panties and black kitten pump heels. As soon as Jack gets himself under control, he just walks into the small room and moves Brock’s arms so hang loosely at his side. Then he simply grabs the undergarment and hooks the two parts together, before walking out without a word.

 

A few minutes after that Brock finally emerges, Dressed in a little red 50’s inspired halter top style dress. It ended a few inches above brocks knees and had a little bow tied at the back. Jack could see a little bit of the lace from the bra peeking out at him, which when combined with the heels made just the perfect picture. Speaking of…. Jack pulled out his phone, “ smile pretty for the camera sweet thing.” and without giving Brock anytime to protest clicks the button a few times. For his part, Brock folds his arms across his chest and pulls his face down into a pout while he waits for Jack to finish.

After a few moments Jack stops,puts his phone back into his pocket and pulls his jacket on.

“Well, Let’s head out then.”

Brock’s eyes widened to the point of small plates and his mouth falls so far open that Jack was almost certain it would hit the floor soon. His face starting to turn a startling shade of vermillion, “what? Oh no… Oh Fuck NO!” Brock spluttered out his voice getting a little higher with each syllable, “nope, no way. That is not fucking happening Jack!”

Jack arched an eyebrow up, “why not?”

“I’m wearing a fucking dress! With Heels! And fucking panties!” he yells, “ Why the fuck do you think I don't wanna leave? Are fucking Blind?! Or did you whack your fucking skull on something while I was changing and become that fucking stupid!?”

Jack calmly stood there, letting Brock shout at him, letting him yell insults at him.

“Jesus! When you told me this fucking stupid thing of yours, I thought- you know- I’d wear it and you’d fuck me in it! Not make me into a fucking chick and parade me around!”

He lets Brock continue on that tangent for a good 10 minutes before he holds up one his big hands, making to get Brock’s attention, before curling his fingers down, until just his pointer finger was up. He pointed it at Brock, and tilted his head a little to one side, as if he was carefully considering what to say (He wasn’t. He fucking knew this would happen and knew what he was going to tell Brock.)  

“What? You don’t like going out? Or do you just not like going out with me? cause , you seemed to to enjoy making yourself all pretty the other night, and going out to have fun. Without me. Leaving me come home to an empty house, after I was nice enough to finish up your work ya.”

 

_SHIT!!! I fucking knew he was still mad about that!_

 

Brock inhaled deeply through his nose, ready to start up the argument again before Jack cut him off with, “Besides, you were the one who wanted to prove what a good fucking boy he is.Or, are not my good boy anymore? Is that it? You don’t wanna be mine anymore? You wanna go out and fucking pretend that you don’t need me?”

As soon as Jack stopped talking, as soon as he stopped asking those questions, probably before that, is Brock was being honest with himself, Brock knew he wasn’t getting out of this. He knew he was going to go along with this.

 _FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK! I’m leaving the house dressed like a chick._ He thought resignedly. With his shoulder slumped and an expression of defeat written all over his face, hell, inscribed to his fucking body language even, he quietly asked, “Where are we going?”

Jack smirked, he knew he had won before Brock had even opened his mouth, “Figured we’d go and see a movie darling. Maybe have a couple drinks afterwards.” he said casually, grabbing the keys out his pocket and heading toward the door. He glanced behind himself only briefly, to see Brock trying follow as fast as he could in those heels.

* * *

The movie was terrible but that might something to with the face Jack kept jerking him off throughout the entire thing. All two point five goddamn hours of it. Letting Brock get so damn close everytime and then just, stopping as Brock was ready come.And as much as Brock did not want to be walking around in panties filled with come (because there was no way he was going without underwear in the fucking dress) he hadn’t had any release in fucking days, thanks to Jack.  By the time it was over Brock was so hard it fucking hurt and there was no way, when he stood up that it wasn’t going to be fucking obvious that he had an erection, not with the way the dress was tented. Brock looked over at Jack and wondered if there was any way that he could get away with just sitting there for a couple more minutes, just to calm himself down. Judging from the way Jack stood up and grabbed Brock’s hand to pull him up out of his seat, that was a great big fucking nope. So Brock stood, grabbed the damn purse Jack _Insisted_  went the entire fucking get up, moved it to the front of the dress, hoping that it would cover his _Problem_ and let Jack drag him along to the truck.

 

Once they were in the truck Jack leaned over and said, “Now, Since you’ve been such a good girl so far tonight, I’m gonna give you a choice here. We can go out, finish our evening with a nice drink, somewhere nearby, before going home and when we get home I’ll treat ya real nice. Let you get outta that dress and into something a lot more comfortable for you. Or… We can head home right now, But you have to leave the outfit on and you don’t get to come for rest of the night.”

Brock breathed in deep through his nose as he seriously thought about the options he had been given. He really didn’t want to drag this fucking thing out any longer than he absolutely had to, but on the other hand, he was really fucking hard. Jack hadn’t let him since that evening at S.H.E.I.L.D. when Brock had dumped all those fucking boring forms on him to fill out.  So he was on day fucking four of being teased and it _Hurt_ .   _Wait a fucking second, Why is this even a question? There is no fucking way I am staying out in this monstrosity. ‘Sides if we head home, I might be able to_ **_Convince_ ** _Jack to just let me come…._

 

“ Could we home?Please?” Brock pleaded putting on his best ‘sad puppy’ face, praying that it would help soften Jack up a little.

“No problem Sweetheart. We’ll head on home then, you must be tired.” He said as he patted Brock’s thigh with a condescending tone, noting the way Brock bristled a bit at that and filed that piece of information away for later before starting the truck to head home.

* * *

Once they were home, Jack ordered Brock to head up to the bedroom and to leave everything on. Even the heels. _Well, Especially the heels,_ if Jack was going to be honest with himself. Judging from the way Brock bolted up the stairs, well, as ran up them as fast as he could in the heels, the kid was thinking that he was going to try and change Jack’s mind about what was going to happen tonight. And well, He was more than welcome to try. Didn’t mean it was going to work. But it would be entertaining for Jack to watch him try.

 

Once Brock reached the bedroom, he was really fucking tempted to pretend he didn’t hear Jack tell him to leave everything on. His entire thought process was going along the lines of _I can always just fucking try to ask for forgiveness, because there is no way I’m gonna get permission._

With that he kicks the little black heels of of his feet, not caring where they land or if they made enough noise to alert Jack to what he was doing and padded over (on now gleeful bare feet, how the fuck do women stand them?) to their en suite bathroom, to wash off the mascara and lipstick that “completed the look”, while pulling the dress up and over his head (thank god there was no fucking zipper), messing up said makeup and his hair all in one go. Throwing the dress into the hamper, he rips off the bra and panties, tossing them to the same fate as the dress, and goes to the sink to scrub his face (maybe fix his fucking hair too). With the water running he doesn’t hear Jack step into bedroom, doesn’t see his eyes narrow and his mouth pull down into a deep frown, when he notices that Brock is not waiting for him on the bed. He doesn’t see the look of disappointment when Jack spots the shoes laying haphazardly on the ground and puts everything together.

 

For a such a big man, Jack has the ability to move really fucking quietly when he chooses too. Generally he saved it for when they were on missions together and stealth was the priority, but there were times, like these ones, that he doesn’t want Brock to hear him coming. He doesn’t want to give Brock time to prepare any excuses or ploys because he knows first hand how convincing Brock can be when he feel the need to be.

 

Stalking into the shared bathroom, He sees that Brock has discarded everything and blatantly disobeyed him. So he gives the smaller man just enough time to shut the water off, dry off his face and look up into mirror to see Jack’s scowling face looking back at him. Jack gleefully notes the widening of the eyes and can pinpoint the exact moment that Brock realizes just how much he had fucked up and nothing about what was going to follow was going to be pleasant for him. Jack doesn’t even say anything, he angles his body just enough that Brock can squeeze by him through the door ( and yes, he does mean squeeze. There is just enough room for him to get by, but he’ll have to press his body up against Jack to do it.), and points towards the bed.

 

Brock sucks in a breath, rocking back on his heels, taking in just how large Jack looks right now. The fact that he’s fully dressed in his boots, jeans and button down (which pulls deliciously across his chest), just further pushes on Brock just how much power the bigger man holds over him. Noticing Brock’s hesitation Jack raises his eyebrow and shifts forward ever so slightly, the subtle threat carrying over wonderfully if the way Brock bolts for the bed is any indication.

 

Making sure Brock laying down comfortably on his back, Jack simply says “don’t move” before climbing onto the bed himself and leaning over Brock’s prone form. He doesn’t waste any time with foreplay, nothing about this is meant to sweet or gentle. He holds his large hand up to Brock’s mouth, “Lick” comes the command and Brock eagerly does so, hoping that Jack might have a bit of mercy before the night ends if Brock is good for him. When Jack deems his hand sufficiently wet, he moves down to Brock’s cock and starts slowly stroking him. Moving his hand up and down with a little twist at the head, going just fast enough to get a reaction from the other man, but not nearly fast enough for what Brock wants. He knows how much Brock wants to come, four days of denial and teasing will do that. He knows that if moves just a little faster and tightens his grip just a little more, it would take next to nothing before Brock reached his peak. He doesn’t.

 

He continues this until Brock lifts his head up, his breathing is ragged by this point, coming out in gasps-pleas-sobs and buries it into the crook of Jack’s neck. He tries to catch the other man’s mouth in desperate, hungry demand, as Jack’s grip slides over his full length, the gun calloused  palm dragging roughly over the tip, as fingers twist slowly with a steadiness that feels almost cruel.

_No, fuck that. Nothing almost about it. This is fucking torture._

The bastard is grinning there above him, lips not two inches from Brock’s, expression a perfect mix of patience and determination. They’ve been going at this for an hour now and Brock’s olive skin is flushed and covered in sweat. Looking up at Jack, he see’s, plastered there on his perfect fucking face, A look of extreme smugness and eyes that flash-dancing with mischief that promise that this is far from over and there is a fuck-ton more suffering in store for Brock, as he takes him apart piece by piece.

 

Brock pants, and tries to buck up into Jack’s fist but the bigger man has moved from his position of just leaning over Brock to straddling him. His considerable weight now settled high on Brock’s thighs and with one forearm he’s pinning his wrists high above his head,pressing right down to the bones, so that his hands are numb buried in the mattress and movement is fucking impossible. Jack pauses mid stroke to make of his fingers a ring and slides down to the very base of Brock’s cock, tightening there, immovable except for his pinky which flicks in an arc just low enough to tease at the taut high-drawn stretch of sensitive skin beneath Brock’s balls. He  chokes and thrashes uselessly, arms still pinned, cock twitching in Jack’s grip as a brief bursting droplet spirals down the shaft. Jack arches a brow,releasing Brock’s wrists to sit upright and looking down, he traces the trail of wetness with the tip of his index finger, which he brings up to Brock’s lips so he can lick it clean.  
_Fuck!_

Brock thinks that he might literally implode from this, and regrets every decision he made up to this point, that lead him to this particular brand of torture. But he says nothing. As much as he wants to apologize for disobeying Jack, he knows that he has to fucking save it for later. Because there is no way that this is all there is. Jack was fucking pissed, and Brock has noticed him eyeing up the closet, where they happen to keep their box of toys. So yeah. He’s saving up his begging for later, when he needs it. He starts to get so lost in his thoughts that he barely notices that Jack is shifting. He does notice that Jack  is journeying  down and making the mattress dip and creak with his movement.  
  
Jack’s head is dropping lower—

_Nononononononono FUCK!_

The heels of Jack’s palms are driving straight into Brock’s hip bones,thumbs digging into the slicked flesh of his belly. His fingertips tightening, bruising,until finally Brock stops fighting and stills save for the feverish trembling of his thighs. Jack takes Brock’s full length in one smooth motion, tongue swirling and cheeks hollowing out creating that hellish suction. Jack’s hands are like vices holding Brock in place so that he can’t fucking thrust into it. So he can’t attempt to quicken the pace or change the angle. Really he fucking do anything but lay there and suffer the punishment of Jack’s skillful mouth.  
  
Brock growls helplessly into the pillow, his head thrown sideways and eyes shut hard as his breath becomes a hitching disorganized mess,feet scrabbling for purchase on the edge of the bed but to no avail. Jack’s mouth slips free then with an obscenely wet pop and Brock’s groan is so loud that he almost misses Jack’s command, “don’t you fucking dare, you little shit. You don’t get to do that yet.” he whispers right into Brock’s mouth, suddenly on top of him again. Even with the whole length of their bodies pressed together, Jack hovers up just high enough so Brock can’t get the friction he wants. The bastard just grins wider as one hand slides free of his hip to tuck beneath his ass, fingers sliding into the crevice searching out and teasing round his entrance Brock wants to punch him in his fucking teeth,fists balled up white-knuckled at his sides, and nails scraping into the sheets.

 

Jack prepares his hole quickly, too quickly, before pulling his fingers out with squelching pop. Climbing off of Brock with a “ don’t you dare fucking move”, he walks over to the closet and rummages in the box for a minute, before coming back with a handful of items. Jack gathers up Brock’s wrists into one of his own, brings them up over his head, quickly loops the rope he brought out around them and ties it to the headboard. Moving down, he grabs the spreader bar, twirling it around in his hands briefly, as he grabbed some more rope and then secures the bar between Brock’s knees. Effectively making sure sure that there was no way that Brock could close his thighs. Brock lifts his head up, and seeing the look on Jack’s face, a grin that just screams sadistic glee, and for good reason when he sees the small rod in his large hand. Making the sound is well lubed and gently coaxes it into the slit of Brock’s penis. When it’s in as deep as it will he makes sure to fasten a ring just under the head, making sure it won’t pop out. Brock opens his mouth to- Beg? Apologize? He’s not entirely sure, but doesn’t get the chance to before Jack has shoved the ball gag into mouth and tied a blindfold firmly around his eyes. Whimpering around the gag, he feels Jack shift on the bed, and then there is a blunt pressure at his entrance. Not Jack’s cock, it’s too small to be that, but beyond that Brock has no clue which toy it is. That is until he can hear a faint ‘click’ and the lethargic buzzing tells him that is the remote controlled vibe Jack picked up not too long ago.He feels the bed shift again and suddenly he can feel the warmth of Jack’s breath ghosting across his cheek as he says “ be a good  boy now, I’m gonna go out and enjoy that beer now.” Brock can hear his boots walking across the carpeted floor, ignoring the begging that Brock is trying to do around the gag, before he heard the front door close downstairs and then nothing.

* * *

 

Hours later Brock is still squirming on the bed, and in his ass, the vibrator is still going amazingly slow, just enough to keep him nice and desperate, just not enough to push him over the edge. The ball gag in his mouth prevents him from speaking, if he could it would be nothing but an endless stream of begging, pleading. His breathing is fast as he moves what little his bondage allows, rooting against the air, trying desperately to find friction. He hears himself make a sound around the gag, a whine of frustration and agony. If he had any fucking energy left he would be ashamed of himself for the sound he make when he hears the front door open and close.  
  
Footsteps approach, He can hear Jack's heavy boots climbing the stairs,slow and measured. Brock temporarily loses himself in that sound because it means Jack is home now, and quite possibly no longer mad at him. After hours of being able to hear nothing but the slow hum the vibe stuck in his ass _Anything_ would be a welcome sound. Before too long he can practically feel Jack standing right next to the bed. Can feel him looking down at him, savoring the view. Brock knows he should try to be quiet now, but he can't control himself by this point so instead he whines, while thrusting his hips up. Hoping that Jack will see the tear behind the blindfold and take pity on him.

  
“Well, someone looks like they’re ready to apologize,” Jack drawls lazily. Brock can smell the subtle hint of whiskey on his breath.  
  
Brock makes no move to stop himself moving, his cock is firmly in control now and his desperate body keeps on rooting against nothing, desperately squirming, trying to find friction when there is none.  
"Now, now. That's not gonna get you fucking anything, and you know it Sweetheart." And fuck, Brock can hear smug smile on his face.  
  
He nods emphatically, grunts of desperation squeezing their way around the gag, begging without words at this point so Jack can see just how truly sorry he really is.   
  
“Well I suppose, you might be looking good like this,” Jack tells him. “All trussed up, with all your hungry holes stuffed full. Can't even fucking talk back anymore. Sorta wanna keep you like this. Couple a days all nice and secure might finally teach you how to fucking listen.” Despite the harsh words Jack's rough fingers work at the strap holding the gag in place and finally remove it. Brock moves his jaw around a couple times to try and get rid of the stiffness that comes with having his mouth stuffed for so long, but says nothing. He can’t until Jack gives him permission too.

 

After what seems like years of silence,Jack finally curtly orders, "Talk.”  
  
“I’m so fucking sorry,” Brock tells him, “p-please, just let me…”The  tears are running through the blindfold faster, and Brock is certain that is Jack couldn't see them before, he can now.  
  
“Sorry for what?” Drawls Jack lazily. Like he doesn't care what Brock has to say. Like he's just humoring him at this point.

_Fucking hell, he's still so fucking mad._

  
“ I’m sorry for taking off on you, when you told me stay home. I’m sorry for disobeying a direct order and changing out of the dress, when I was told to leave it on. I-I’m just so fucking sorry, OK?”  
  
He can hear the smile in Jack’s voice when he says, “Not as sorry as you’re gonna be.” and Brock freezes in place, unable to comprehend what Jack means in that moment.

 

 _How much more sorry can I possibly be?_  
  
The vibe stops then, switched off by the remote control that Jack had left on the dresser, and he turns to Brock’s cock. Fingers brush the top of the sound and Brock screams at the sensation as it travels right down the center of his cock. Jack tugs the rod, pulling it out agonizingly slowly, stopping and pushing it back inside for awhile (it feels like a fucking hour), until Brock is nothing more than a panting mess on the bed. Finally, when he tires of the torture, Jack pulls it all the way out and places it down on the table at the side of the bed.  
  
“Want to cum little boy? Want to try and be a good boy for a change?” he asks, as he runs one finger, ever so lightly, along the length of Brock's cock. Knowing damn well that, that was exactly what Brock wanted. Knowing that at this point he could make him do anything, and he would do it.   
  
“Yes, God,Fuck, yes!”  
  
Jack keeps lightly running his finger up and down for a few more moments. Teasing him some more before finally, Jack’s hand wraps around the full length of his straining cock and tugs, once, twice, and that is all it takes, to push him over the edge.

 

_Yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes._

  
Suddenly, Jack’s hand is gone and Brock cries out," NO!", twisting and writhing, bucking on the bed, searching for friction again, but there is nothing to rub against. It is too late to stop the orgasm, but the cum leaks slowly out of his already softening cock. He cries out in frustration, still moving on the bed, trying in vain to feel at least some of the pleasure that Jack just denied him.  
  
“There,” Jack tells him, “feel better?” His smile razor sharp.  
  
“P-please,” Brock begs him. “Jack, please, I need to cum…”  
  
Jack scoffs. He dips a finger into the pool of semen on the bed and touches it to Brock’s lips. “You just did,” he states simply.  
  
He opens the drawer by the bed and takes something out. His hands touch Brock’s flaccid cock again, they roll his balls between the fingers and run down the length of his soft shaft, then Brock feels something cold and hard on the still so sensitive skin. It envelops his cock, tight. Not painfully so, but enough that he can feel it and hear the lock click shut. And fuck, if such a little sound didn't manage to sound so fucking final.  
  
“There we go, all locked up,” Jack says, his voice falsely sweet. “I meant it earlier, you know. Gonna keep ya locked up for a few days. Teach ya not to be such a little shit all the time.” before he presses the button on the remote and the vibrator starts up again.

" I wouldn't get hard, If I were you. I'm told that it hurts like a son of a bitch with one those on."

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> come join me on Tumblr @ neutralchaos915 :)


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